The Crow and the Butterfly
by Tattoo'd
Summary: She's a leader, a beacon of humanity's hope, and a broken woman who just wants to forget her life on the cold Chicago streets.
1. Prologue: Dear Agony

**The Crow and the Butterfly**  
**Prologue: Dear Agony**

* * *

_January 16, 2172 _  
_Earth-Chicago_

"Hey, sweet cheeks, how much for a couple hours of your time?"  
"Wrong place, buddy. If you're after skin, go down a couple of blocks."

The man smirked and leaned against the brick wall, just inches from the red-head. "What if I don't _want_ to go a couple of blocks down when there's a perfectly fine piece of ass right here?"

The teen's green eyes narrowed and she turned to face the man, crossing her arms over her swollen abdomen. "Look, buddy, you've got two choices; you either buy some of this sand and move the fuck along, or you can go two blocks down and get what you're looking for."

A sickening leer spread across his features and exposed the consequences of a lifetime's worth of bad dental hygiene. He reached out to touch her stomach, his dirty fingers dancing across the fabric stretched over the bump. "Kinda in a delicate condition, aren't you? Where's big daddy at?"

The corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk as a thin red beam shot from the shadows and stopped in a small red dot on the man's forehead. "Big _daddy_ is on that rooftop over there and has a nice bullet just itching to be buried in your skull. Now, get your damn hands off of me." She slapped his hand away and turned to walk away.

His retreating footsteps left shallow imprints in the steadily falling snow and CJ heaved a sigh of relief. "Thanks for that," she said into her ear-piece. "He was starting to creep me out."

A laugh crackled through the connection before Adam Shepard's rich Southern drawl warmed her heart. _"No problem, Mama. Are you done for the night?"_  
"Yeah, go ahead and head back down to ground level. I'll meet you around back." CJ closed the connection and did a quick double check of her area to ensure no product or money was forgotten. She ran her hands up and down her aching spine as she made her way down towards the end of the alley.  
Just ahead, she could make out the slender figure of her boyfriend descending the ladder. From the faint glow of the neon across the street, she watched his lopsided grin grow until he was standing in front of her with a wide smile. "What was that I heard about 'big daddy'?" Adam leaned forward and kissed her chilled cheek.

"Don't flatter yourself, that creep started it." CJ tucked her arms into his jacket and pressed herself against his warm body. "Let's get out of here. I'm cold, my back hurts, and I want to sleep."

"In other words, you want to get back to that pizza before someone else finds it."  
"Damn right I want to get back to that pizza!"

Adam arched an eyebrow and his gray eyes met hers in a sharp look of disapproval. "Now, Big Mama, what have we talked about?"

CJ rolled her eyes. "Ugh, sorry. I'll put a sticker on the wall when we get back to the safe house. Right after I get my pizza."

The couple walked in silence through the cold January night. As CJ clutched to Adam's arm, a smile spread across both of their faces. Despite them being young and in a gang while expecting a baby, they had to admit that they were happier than most in their position. They had always worked together to keep each other safe and make the most out of their work - it was just a little bit different now than when they were ten years old and using skinned knees and split lips to charm elderly ladies out of a credit.

Even with the notoriety, the Reds were much like a large dysfunctional family. The fear of CJ being kicked from their ranks and forced on the streets consumed them. Their leader-a scarred veteran who went by Cloak-had been the one to set their minds at ease. When they had presented the pregnancy to the higher-ups, he leaned across the dark wooden table with the slightest hint of a smile on his face. "You're irreplaceable members of this family. When the baby is born, it'll become a member of the family as well."

It wasn't the best life out there, and Adam didn't _want_ to watch his pregnant lady have to stand in a dark corner of town and deal out red sand during the coldest time of the year in order to earn their keep. But, he also knew that it could be a whole lot worse. They could be stuck on the streets with absolutely nowhere to go and with no food in their bellies, having to do anything and everything to try and get by. More than once he had seen a desperate man being led back into the alleys by another man – once, it had even been a particularly vicious-looking krogan out back behind a space port.

"_Hey_, wait a minute!"

CJ's shrill protest threw Adam out of his reverie and he had to blink several times before he readjusted. "What is it?"  
"Why do I have to be _Big_ Mama?!"

The laugh she loved so much escaped his throat and fogged the air between them when his heated breath met the frigid air. "You're almost nine months pregnant." Then, he threw her a pointed look. "Need I say more?"

"…Dick."  
"Sticker."  
"_Crap_!"

* * *

_February 14, 2172 _

It was Valentine's Day when CJ delivered a healthy baby girl at the only clinic that was willing to deal with the Tenth Street Reds. When they were able to bring the baby home, even the gruffest of members stopped by to offer a coo or a smile to their newest addition. Someone had even left a roughly-knitted wool blanket outside of their room. A fellow member eyed the faded, purple blanket oddly over breakfast the next morning and when CJ questioned them about it, the answer was a little more than surprising: "That blanket belonged to Cloak's oldest daughter when she was born. She was only seventeen when a heist went bad and she was killed." From that day forward, Cloak made a point of stopping by and spending a bit of time with the baby before starting his day.

Adam was in complete and unconditional love with his daughter from the moment he first saw her; red, wet, and screaming at the top of her lungs. If she cried in the wee hours of the morning, he was at her crib-side before CJ even got out of bed. One morning, he stood in the doorway of the nursery and watched CJ breast-feed.

He had seen other infants receiving their nourishment in the same fashion before, but, as he watched his child suckle, an overwhelming sensation of peace warmed him to his very soul. In that instant, he knew that out there, somewhere, there was a higher power at work. No one could tell him that something that beautiful and _pure_ was mere coincidence.

The baby's tiny fist opened and closed against her mother's skin, and her eyes drooped while being rocked back and forth, back and forth, and sung an old tune that Adam remembered his mother singing to him when he himself was young.

_"Bye, baby bunting…Daddy's gone a' hunting, to get a little rabbit skin…To wrap his baby bunting in…"_ CJ sang quietly and with a small smile. She reached up and stroked the smooth skin on the baby's cheek, feeling so full of maternal pride that she thought her heart would burst.

"She needs a name, Mama." Adam came and knelt down beside them, gently laying his hand on the warm bundle in his lover's arms.  
"Do you have any ideas?" She whispered the question, and glanced down quickly to make sure that the tiny eyes were still closed."We could name her after you, Catherine Jane." He smirked, knowing good and well that CJ absolutely detested the name Catherine, the name she had inherited from the same mother who had abandoned her for booze, drugs, and men.

Green eyes narrowed. "We can keep the Jane part, but I'll be darned if my child is going to have _her_ name," A quick glance down at the baby's sleeping face, and all traces of anger slipped from her mind. "Wasn't your mother named Zoë?"

Adam nodded and smiled at CJ. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Sunlight filtered into the room, illuminating the young family in a warm, morning glow. CJ tucked the blanket around her daughter and squarely met Adam's gaze with a bright grin. "Zoë Jane."

* * *

_ April 11, 2172_

Shelly had volunteered to baby-sit Zoë for CJ's eighteenth birthday in order to give her and Adam some alone time together. It had been hard enough to focus on the cake and presents with a heated pair of stormy grey eyes on her the entire time, and with Adam's heated touch on her skin now, coherent thought became an impossible task.

The lack of intimacy during the later months of her pregnancy and after Zoë's birth had made CJ hyper-sensitive to his rough hands and the lazy circles he traced on her skin with his tongue. She pressed a tender kiss to his lips, moaning and arching into his touch as his fingers re-discovered her sweet spots. It was like he was touching her, tasting her again for the very first time. Her body opened up to him as he explored the curves over her soft stomach that was slowly, but surely, returning to its original form. Adam pressed a kiss to her temple, and tenderly lowered her to the sheets beneath him.

A loud _bang_ caused them to freeze, mere inches from each other's bodies. The unmistakable sounds of repetitive gun-fire that rapidly followed the initial shot quickly put an end to the couple's activities. Years and years of conditioning not only sent their bodies into battle-mode, but also sent them into a flurry of limbs as they raced to throw on the clothing they had shed only moments prior.

CJ reached between the mattresses under her side of the bed and removed the same pistol she had been given when she was first initiated into the Reds. "What the hell is going on?!" She shouted over another burst of gun fire.

"Damned if I know!" Adam loaded a thermal clip into his rifle, and dashed towards the door that led from their small room into the main hall of the safe house. Readying his weapon into firing position, he threw the door open and quickly rounded the corner, doing a double-take around the corner before motioning for CJ to follow him. "Here." He reached into his back pocket and handed her an extra clip. "Take this, and stick with me. We need to find out what the fuck is going on."

They had barely moved ten feet when a large, dark-skinned man stepped around another corner and opened fire on them without a moment's hesitation. "_Get back_!" Immediately, Adam reached back and slammed CJ back into the wall, flattening himself beside her.

CJ crouched down and crept towards the corner of the wall, keeping her head turned to the side in order to avoid the chunks of plaster flying through the air as the unknown male's slugs tore through the wall. The smell of charred steel and the sound of a sizzle as the weapon, alongside a moment's pause in the gun-fire, gave her enough time to stand and fire a well-aimed shot into the poor bastard's skull. He managed to pop off another round into the ceiling before collapsing in a heap on the floor, which allowed the couple to ease forward and examine the body.

"God-dammit, it's the Rains." Adam cursed, kicked the corpse, and reached down to pluck several extra clips from a pouch on his belt.  
" The Rains?! But I thought Cloak and Donovan made peace years ago! Why would they come around here and start messing shit up now?"  
"Guess Donovan wants our turf again." Adam cocked his rifle, and stepped over the body.

CJ's green eyes narrowed and darted around the halls, searching for the slightest sign of movement. "A year ago, I would have said '_fuck it_' and left, but this bastard messed up when he put my baby in danger."

Moving swiftly through the compound, they soon began to notice a suspicious lack of their own people. Any Tenth Street they saw was either dead or close to it. If they took down one Rains member, two more sprang into place. They found Cloak in his office, or rather what was left of him. There was still no sign of Zoë.

They stormed down the hall and rounded the corner that led into the mess hall. Adam held his rifle steady and moved through the tables. CJ took to the far side, near the pantries, and snapped the pistol around every corner she came across. A muffled whimper of protest and a weak cry drew her to the far corner, back behind several shelves.

She expected a barrage of bullets, of having to throw herself behind some cover and fight for her life. What CJ never expected to find was Zoë's faded, purple blanket lying on the floor, noticeably spattered with blood. Inches away, Shelly's lifeless body was slumped over on the floor, and underneath her arms, there was a kicking flurry of little feet.

"Adam, get in here!" The young mother fell to her knees with a painful thud and hauled the dead woman's torso away from her baby. Zoë's face was red and angry, and her cries were hoarse and weak from her efforts. CJ gently picked up her daughter and examined her from head to toe, luckily finding no wounds on her tiny body. "Adam!" She called again.

She waited in the pantry for Adam to come running, and when he didn't, she grabbed the blanket from the floor and wrapped it around Zoë. Pistol in hand and with a baby on her hip, CJ eased out of the pantry and into the kitchen, which was where Adam had previously been headed. She saw him through the window and sighed in relief.

"I found…" Her eyes widened when, suddenly, Donovan, the leader of the Rains, began to creep up behind Adam and aim his weapon directly at the back of his head.  
"ADAM!"

_**BLAM!**_

Horrified, CJ watched her lover's skull splatter across the wall and his body slump to the floor in a sickening heap. She clapped a hand over her mouth, and pressed her body as flat as she could against the inside of the pantry just as the tears began to pour down her face. Zoë began to squirm and cry in her mother's arms, her voice finding a bit more strength than it had before.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…I _know_ you're in here somewhere." Donovan's raspy voice permeated throughout the room. "Don't make me have to come in and _find_ you."

Panicked desperation shot through CJ's body, burning through her veins like a particularly strong dose of opiates "Shh, baby girl. Be good for Mama." She whispered urgently in an attempt to calm her child into silence. If anything, it seemed to agitate the child still further and she continued to cry.

"Ready or not, here I come." He took slow, heavy, and deliberate steps back into the mess hall. A semi-reflective surface on a shelf allowed CJ to watch him peek through the freezers and then into the giant refrigeration system on the other side of the hall.

She bit down on her lip, looked down at Zoë, and forced a half-hearted smile. "Baby girl, Mama is about to do something very stupid." She pressed a kiss to the downy-soft hair on her daughter's forehead, and began to rock them both back and forth, back and forth. "You can't understand me yet, sweet-pea, but I hope you know that your Mama and Daddy love you very much." Choking back more tears, CJ readied her pistol, tightened her grip on Zoë, and then made a mad dash for the main hall.

One foot touched down on the bloodied tile and just as she thought that she'd made it safely home, a loud _bang_ was followed by a sharp pain as _something_ cut though the flesh on her upper arm. "I_ see_ you!" Donovan roared before firing upon her again and again, narrowly missing her head by just a few uncomfortable inches. Ignoring the searing pain from the gun-shot wound, she tore through the halls and barely avoided tripping over the fallen members of the Reds.

Slugs continued to ricochet off the walls even as she reached the exit. The red glow from the activated lock caused more panic than frustration, and sent her mind into a frenzy as she frantically tried to remember the code. It emitted a beep of denial, and then a second, and on her third and final try, which would send the door into permanent lock-down if she failed, CJ began to pray to anything or anyone who'd listen.

_'Whoever's out there, listening… Please, give me the strength to get through this, and I swear I'll leave this life behind me. No more alcohol, no more drug running. I'll get a job and I'll be a proper mother. Just please, help me out here!'_

Green flashed and the door whooshed open, stunning CJ for the tiniest moment before she ran though and entered the lock down code on the other side. Before the two doors sealed shut, she was awarded with a brief glimpse of Donovan rounding the corner with Adam's rifle held squarely in his hands.

The emergency exit hadn't been used in years, but, as children, CJ and Adam had frequently played down here with the other kids. Thick cobwebs, and the stale odor of mildew and decay, overwhelmed her senses and made her cough violently. She had to navigate the path carefully and allow her eyes enough time to adjust to the painfully low-light conditions deeper within the tunnel. More than once, the remains of old wire and other corroded scrap-metals scraped her arms and caught her fully across the face, throwing a grotesque mix of dust, blood and tears into her mouth.

The deeper she went, the more her thoughts seemed to swirl. She was alone with no money, with no where to go, and a fatherless child that needed to eat. _'If I don't eat, though, Zoë can't eat either,_' She thought darkly. Up ahead, the faint glow of street-lights filtered though the grates in the street service entry. Tucking the pistol neatly into her pants, CJ pulled Zoë to her side and carefully ascended the rickety ladder with her free hand.

Her reward was a rush of cool April air and a couple of odd glances when she hoisted herself and a baby out from beneath the street. A few whispers reached her ears, but she didn't have time to concern herself with the opinions being indirectly thrown at her from multiple sources. Walking deeper into the city induced even more stares and more whispers, though thankfully no one approached her with questions. The policemen either glanced up and then back down at the data pads held in their hands, or redirected their gazes in a more interesting direction.

'_Just another desperate girl looking for a fix, I guess_,' CJ mused to herself, but if that's what it took for them to keep from halting her progress with incessant questions, she would gladly be whatever they wanted her to be.

She reached up to stroke her daughter's hair, but, when her fingers grazed the downy strands, a certain coldness filled her body. The motion felt oddly foreign to her, and the child's weight soon grew awkward and uncomfortable. As CJ stared down at Zoë's face, every fiber of her being began to question her instincts as a mother.

As the panic grew, she looked around for a place to stop and compose herself, and found the inviting light from a small, sparsely-populated café to be their best option. She stepped inside and returned a waitress' greeting with a quick smile as she settled down in a corner booth with Zoë. A middle-aged woman approached her, holding a menu and an assortment of silverware that she adeptly placed in front of CJ. "What can I get for you to drink, sweetie?"

"Um, coffee please. Regular, black."  
"I'll get that right out to you." She offered a too-sweet smile and returned to the kitchens.

CJ hated coffee, but she needed time to compose herself. The pistol in her jeans dug uncomfortably into her hip, almost painfully so. She laid Zoë down in the crevice of the booth and turned, discreetly removing the weapon from her pants while under the guise of tending to her daughter. A sickening feeling washed over her when she held the hilt of the gun in her hand.

Suddenly, the waitress placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of CJ, startling her so much that the teen jumped. "Here you go."  
"Shit, you scared me!" She played it off with a shaky laugh and subtly eased the gun under the folds of the blanket.  
"I'm sorry about that! Are you ready to order, or…?"  
"Just a few more minutes, please." CJ dug deep and forced a thin smile.  
"That's fine, I'll come back in a bit."

She watched the woman head back into the kitchens, and then sank back into the booth and rubbed her face out of frustration. The cold, hard steel of the pistol had settled comfortably back into the palm of her hand when her own child's form had grown alien in her arms.

A deadly _weapon_ felt more natural to her than holding her own _daughter_.

CJ began to weigh the options in her head; she had no money and no place to go, with a child that her body was slowly rejecting. If she took Zoë to one of the dozens of adoption agencies around town, they would ask too many questions and the poor girl would end up in a foster home with who-knows-what kind of people for guardians. Similarly, taking her to the police would lead to the same scenario with an included jail sentence.  
A loud laugh tore CJ from her thoughts, and she looked up as a young couple entered the café. A shining wedding band on one of the woman's fingers gleamed when she reached up to touch her husband's face. She kissed him, and looked over, meeting CJ's eyes, and instead of throwing out a retort like most people would, she only grinned. "I'm sorry. We're newly-weds."

CJ chuckled and shook her head. "No worries, that's fine." Just then, Zoë began to whimper and kicked her tiny legs.  
"Aww! Is that your baby?" The woman's bright blue eyes sparkled in delight as she leaned over in order to better look at Zoë. "Can I hold her?"  
CJ hesitated, half-expecting a comment on her own disheveled appearance. When none were forthcoming, she nodded her head, carefully unwrapped the blanket, and eased the child into the woman's waiting arms. Instant coos and child-like sounds surrounded Zoë as the woman's husband came over and joined in on the fun. "What's her name?" She asked, smiling and playing with a tiny hand.

"Zoë Jane," CJ answered. "She'll be two months old on the 14th."

The woman squealed in sheer delight, and the teenager's green eyes warmed as she watched the couple's expressions contort with pure joy over her child. A strange relief fell over her as her most important issue settled itself right before her eyes.

"Excuse me, but could you watch her for just a second? I think I left my purse at the transportation hub across the street." CJ almost winced at how bitter the lie tasted in her mouth, and regretted the fact that this would be the last night she'd ever see her daughter.

"Sure, no problem! We'll just go ahead and get a table so we can wait for you there," answered the husband before turning his attention to finding the mentioned table. CJ murmured a quick thanks, reached down for Zoë's blanket, and slid out of he booth. After exiting the café, she jogged across the street, but never went to the transportation hub she'd mentioned.

Tears slid down her cheeks, and she tried her best to wipe them away. In one night, she had not only lost her best friend and lover, but also her daughter. Never before had she felt so alone and so vulnerable since her mother first abandoned her. And annoyed by the weapon that was once again pressing into her side, CJ took it out and threw it as hard as she could down an adjacent alleyway. The loud thud it made as it landed amongst derelict cars and old garbage bins was oddly gratifying.

In the midst of wiping her eyes dry, CJ lost her concentration and crashed into a solid body. "Hey, there! Watch it!"

She opened her eyes only to see an older man in full Alliance naval uniform bending down to pick up the papers he'd dropped upon their collision. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said quickly, and knelt down to help him pick up the flyers.  
"It's no trouble at all, young lady. Thanks for the help."

CJ collected the scattered sheets and tapped them against the ground to even them up with one another. Then, she stood up in order to hand them to the officer, and looked down at the words typed in bold print across the top. "Recruitment…? The Alliance naval force is looking for recruits?"  
The man nodded. "We sure are. You interested?"

CJ's eyes scanned over the papers, and she nodded without a second thought. "I am, sir."

"Are you eighteen?"  
"Just turned eighteen today, sir."

He chuckled and accepted the papers from her. "You're polite at least, I'll give you that. If you really are interested, follow me down to our office and we'll get everything going for you."

The teen nodded and dusted herself off as she suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Do you have a name, future-soldier?" He asked kindly.

CJ looked up from her nervous tidying. "Yes, sir."

This earned her another chuckle. "Well, what is it?"

This was it. A chance to be someone completely _new_. In that moment, she could create an entirely new_ life_, and start over fresh. No one ever had to know that she'd been in a gang. She didn't have to relive her lover's murder. She could forget the feeling of hopelessness that had overwhelmed her as her body's maternal instincts slowly faded away.

"Jane Shepard, sir."  
He held out his hand and shook hers in a confirmatory gesture. "Welcome to the corps, Shepard."

* * *

_**Author's Notes:** Thank you all for reading my very first Mass Effect fic. ^w^ A bit of info about Jane Shepard...Earthborn (duh!), War Hero, Paragade. _

___Many, many, many thanks to my lovely beta-reader **Wolf126**! She carefully helped me fix my ADHD mistakes, bless her heart. XD Check out her endearing /Tali fic she is working on, "**To Build A Home**"._

_The little deal with the stickers in the beginning is something like a curse jar! Before I was born and while my brother's and I were growing up, my mom and dad had a little wager. They put "dirty word" stickers on a chart whenever they cursed; blue for dad and red for mom! At the end of week, they had to pay each $0.25 for each sticker. Of course, most of the time it went forgotten, but it lead to some epic improvised sayings!_

_Reviews are love~  
_


	2. You're Going Down

**The Crow and the Butterfly**

**Chapter One: You're Going Down**

* * *

Shepard was finding it increasingly difficult to keep the meeting with the Council civilized. The damning evidence against Saren had been presented, and his Spectre status revoked. Despite risking their lives to gather the information, she and Captain Anderson were now faced with the daunting task of convincing them that the Reapers were terrifyingly real.

"I_ tried_ to warn you about Saren and you refused to face the truth. Don't make the same mistake again." Shepard kept her voice firm, but, on the inside, she was dishing out obscenities that bordered on ridiculous.

The asari Councilor narrowed her eyes. "This is different. You proved Saren betrayed the Council. We all agree he's using the geth to search for the Conduit, but we don't really know why."

"The Reapers are obviously just a myth, Commander; a convenient lie to cover Saren's true purpose. A legend he is using to bend the geth to his will." Salarian eyes studied the group before them, and Shepard's patience began to wear dangerously thin.

"Fifty thousand years ago, the Reapers wiped out _all_ galactic civilization. If Saren finds the Conduit, it _will_ happen again!"

The turian Councilor apparently thought that Saren's no longer being a Council Spectre actually meant something. Udina was quick to let him know that stripping him of a status and slapping him on the wrist just wasn't good enough. The Ambassador asked for the fleet to be sent in, and the salarian shot him down: "A fleet cannot track down one man."

Udina lowered his fist and took a calming breath, "A Citadel fleet could secure the entire region. Keep the geth from attacking any more of our colonies." His hostile tone had been replaced by one of sheer concern, and Shepard genuinely felt sorry for the man.

"Or it could trigger a war with the Terminus Systems! We won't be dragged into a galactic confrontation over a few dozen human colonies!" The turian Councilor's gazed hardened and his mandibles gave an angry twitch.

_ 'If this were "a few dozen turian colonies", this varren-humping bastard would be breaking his neck sending troops out.'_ The N7 graduate took a step forward, and then another, until she stood directly beside Udina. "It's the same old story! Every time _humanity_ asks for help, you ignore us!"

Udina gave her an acknowledging nod. "Shepard's right. I'm sick of this Council and it's anti-human bull-"

"Ambassador! There is another solution. A way to stop Saren that does not require fleets or armies." The asari's gaze settled on the turian to her right.

"No!" His mandibles flared angrily as he returned his fellow Councilor's gaze with a harsh glare. "It's too soon. Humanity is not ready for the responsibilities that come with joining the Spectres."

Shepard took a deep breath, and reigned in her temper before it got them all thrown from the nearest airlock. "Councilor, you know it's the best solution. You don't have to send a fleet into the Traverse, and the Ambassador gets his human Spectre. Everybody's happy."

The salarian and asari Councilors eyed their comrade for several moments, until finally the turian sighed, and gave a nod of approval. The three of them entered something into the consoles before them, and finally the blue-skinned female lifted her head. "Commander Shepard, step forward."

* * *

The sloshing of water, and the thrum of machinery within the washer, filled the small room, along with the sharp smell of Alliance-issued laundry detergent. Shepard leaned back in a chair and propped her feet up on the counter meant for folding laundry. A satisfied grin stretched across her face as she thought back on the day's events.

If becoming the first human Spectre wasn't enough, she had been given full control of the _SSV Normandy_. Shepard couldn't help but feel like a child with a new toy as she walked about the ship, and worked to get better acquainted with her crew. As she chewed absent-mindedly on her dog-tag, she had to admit; she felt pretty damn _amazing_ right now.

"They make Spectres do their own laundry?"

The chair slammed down on all fours as Shepard scrambled to keep herself from falling. She jerked her head towards the source of her near-demise, and found that poor Garrus was doing his best to keep refrain from laughing.

"You're going to catch PDD, and I'm going to laugh," she grumbled, tossing a half-empty bottle of detergent at the snickering turian.

"Oh, I'm _hurt_. How could you turn one of my race's most debilitating diseases against me?" Garrus feigned insult, and placed his own basket of clothes on the counter. "But seriously, why are you up here? I thought you had someone to do all of your grunt-work for you."

"They assigned me an assistant, but I just can't handle the thought of someone doing everything that I can do just as well. Plus, the thought of someone defiling my underwear…" Shepard cringed, "I have to protect the sanctity of my lady-bits!"

An awkward silence settled over them, and it was only broken when Garrus finally cleared his throat and carefully removed his civilian-wear from the basket. "You're bored, aren't you?"

"…Completely, and utterly bored."

He laughed, and dug around for his own detergent before adding a capful of the surprisingly sweet-smelling liquid to the washer. "Well, if you'd like, there's something going on tonight that I think you'd be interested in. A little 'underground night-life', if you will."

The Commander picked up a discarded magazine and fanned her face dramatically. "Why, Mister Vakarian, are you offering to take me out for a night on the town?"

"Hah! Hardly!" Garrus leaned against the washer and turned his eyes to Shepard. "Seeing the great Commander Shepard resorting to doing her own laundry out of boredom? Frankly, it's just sad."

The turian ducked as the annoyed human flung her magazine at his head. "I'll take that as a yes?" He asked with a laugh.

"Screw you, Polly."

"I'll see you at eight."

* * *

Whatever Garrus had planned for the night also attracted three other crew-members, including Kaidan. When the staff lieutenant gave her a broad smile, Shepard returned it politely before inching up behind the unsuspecting turian.

"What the _actual fuck_, Vakarian?" She hissed, ineffectively elbowing him in the side.

Garrus donned a surprisingly innocent look. "What is it, Commander?"

"Don't give me that! You know what!" She shot a quick look back at Kaidan before snapping her eyes back to Garrus. "What's he doing here?!"

He followed her line of sight to humor her, not really needing to confirm the source of her distress. "Alenko? He deserves the right to get out and stretch his legs, too, doesn't he?"

"No!" Shepard raised her voice a bit too loudly, earning a few stares from passersby. "He stretches his legs enough following me around all the time!" She added, lowering her voice back to a whisper.

They stopped in front of a locked door guarded by two men dressed in lightly-armored civvies. One of them looked over the rest of the group while the other checked something Garrus handed him. "All right, head on in. Welcome back, Garrus." A few blips on a nearby console, and the door whooshed open, revealing a flight of descending stairs.

"Trust me, Shepard, you'll be glad he tagged along this time." The turian led them down the dimly-lit stairwell, returning a greeting to those who acknowledged him as they passed on their return to the Citadel wards.

Shepard arched a brow as she took in the people coming up from the room at the bottom of the stairs. While they were smiling, many of them were bleeding and sporting black-eyes, split lips, and swollen cheeks. "Okay, we're either going to the best bar in the galaxy, or the roughest bordello ever."

A crewman Shepard remembered as Hector laughed, and was the first to step forward and open the door. "Close enough, Commander. They have kick-ass booze, and kick-ass women, but not exactly in the bordello sense."

When Hector opened the door, the pungent smell of sweat, blood, and alcohol enveloped them. Shepard watched as two men struggled in the center of a crude ring made entirely of supply crates, and spectators cheered drunkenly as some opened their omni-tools in order to transfer credits. The group stepped into the large room, and Hector led the other crewman over to the bar, leaving Garrus alone with Kaidan and Shepard.

There was something..._intoxicating,_ about the atmosphere of club. The heavy bass of the music pouring through the speakers only amplified the sheer adrenaline that was already pumping through Shepard's body. The sounds of flesh hitting flesh and the distinct crack of bone mingled with the music in almost perfect harmony, calling out the most primal instincts of every being in the room with a heartbeat.

"Garrus, where did you find this place?" Shepard called over the music and roars of the crowd.

"C-Sec picked up a few rumors over the years, but no one ever made an official investigation. This place does too much good for people to be shut down." Garrus looked towards the ring as the pair of fighters were separated into their designated corners. "I might have also been in the ring a few times, myself." He added with a light smirk.

"Too much good? This is barbaric!" Kaidan protested, "It's people beating the hell out of each other for profit!"

"Kaidan," For once, Shepard made willing, personal contact with her little shadow, "This is people beating the hell out of each other for stress release and fun." She stretched her arms over her head and popped her knuckles. "The profits are just a pleasant bonus."

Garrus laughed when the lieutenant's eyes widened, and as he realized that the Commander had every intention of participating tonight. "She's a big girl, Alenko. I'm sure she knows what she's doing."

A new song began playing over the speakers, and they started calling for new candidates to enter the ring.

_[Define your meanin' of war…]_  
_[To me it's what we do when we're bored…]_

"Oh, hell yes!" Before Kaidan could protest any further, Shepard flexed enthusiastically and pushed her way through the crowd. Stepping into the ring, she turned to her companions and wiggled her finger in a come-hither motion at her wide-eyed lieutenant. "Come on, Alenko. Let me remind you why you call me 'Commander'."

* * *

**_Author's Note: _**_Thanks for the Reviews and the follows! :D I'm glad people are enjoying this so far! On a quick note, when Shepard mentions PDD: _

_-PDD is a disease amongst pet birds. __It is caused by a virus that progressively destroys the nerve supply to the forestomach, gizzard, and portions of the small intestines. As a result of the damage, birds are unable to digest their food properly. Since turians are avian-based creatures, I figure they can have avian diseases. XD Shepard's just being an ass~_

_Once again many thanks to my amazing beta-Minion Wolf126~ She makes my life so much easier!_


	3. This Is Gonna Hurt

**The Crow and the Butterfly**

**Chapter Two: This Is Gonna Hurt**

* * *

In the wake of the fight, Hector and his fellow crewman had to help a very drunk, _very_ much abused Kaidan back to the crew quarters on the Normandy_._ Meanwhile, two shadowy figures moved in the dim light of the storage bay, which was unusually silent save for their quiet breathing and the hum of machinery.

Garrus stared into two wide, green eyes that seemed to gleam in anticipation. A rough hand brushed over Shepard's flushed skin, sending a slight shiver up her spine.

"Are you ready?" Garrus whispered, bringing his taloned hand to rest on her cheek.

She took a deep breath, and leaned into his warm touch. "Please, Garrus. Just —"

**_POP!_**

Garrus' strong fingers made quick work of the displace cartilage of Shepard's broken nose. A growl of pain tore from her throat, and he quickly stepped back out of her reach.

"You nut-gobbling, leathery, piece of inferior _fuck meat_!" Shepard screeched, bringing her hands up to catch the blood that began dripping from her freshly suddenly-repositioned nose.

The turian's mandibles twitched in amusement. "I'll just…take that as an elaborate thank-you." He rolled a strip of gauze from a first-aid kit into a tight roll, and gently eased it into Shepard's left nostril. "Chakwas is going to strangle you when she finds out about this," he said dubiously.

Shepard donned an innocent look that didn't quite work with the bruising on her face. "Strangle me for being a by-stander caught in a vicious brawl?"

"No, for head-butting a _krogan_ for a _bet_."

The Commander laughed, and then winced in pain. "Just seeing the expressions on people's faces made it worth it. Now, don't act like you didn't get a kick out of that!"

Garrus could not deny that the red-head's stunt had been quite entertaining. A drunken club patron had spied her N7 badge, and then betted five hundred credits that she wouldn't have the nerve to head-butt his krogan buddy. The large, green-skinned alien towered almost two feet over Shepard's 5'3 frame. She stood up on a chair to gain a few inches over him, and everyone began laughing, only to be quickly silenced when she slammed her head into the krogan's. The krogan was stunned but uninjured. Shepard, however, hadn't been so lucky.

"_I_ thought it was hilarious, but the good doctor may not agree with me. _She_ should grateful that you all didn't start beating seven shades of shit out of each other." Garrus dug around in the first-aid kit until he found the medi-gel. He squeezed out a bit onto his long fingers, and began gently rubbing the restorative goop onto Shepard's injuries. "Maybe I'll ease her into it, and she'll just lecture for a _few _hours. Not the whole damn day."

She had been leaning into the soothing gel and Garrus' ministrations, but when he mentioned telling Chakwas of her antics, she pulled away and narrowed her eyes. "You _wouldn't_."

His mandibles flared as he smirked and simply continued applying the medi-gel. "Oh, I _would_, Commander…but I suppose we can come to some sort of an agreement."

She arched a brow, and tapped her fingers against the hood of the Mako. "What kind of an agreement, Vakarian?"

"Nothing crazy, I assure you. I have three conditions for you to agree to, that's all."

"Three?"

"Yes, Shepard, three meager requests is all I'm asking you."

A moment of silence settled over them, and, finally, Shepard broke it with a frustrated sigh. "Fine, what are these three conditions?"

Garrus settled himself on a supply crate across from her, and luxuriously stretched his legs out in front of him. "First of all, the next dextro-chocolate bar you find is mine. Tali isn't the only one that can eat them, you know."

Shepard chewed on her bottom lip and stifled a small laugh. "Okay, satisfy your sweet tooth…What next?"

"I get one favor that I can use at anytime, anywhere, and you have to agree to it. No questions asked." Garrus held his hands up when her eyebrow shot up once again. "Nothing crazy or sexual, I promise!"

"So, you're asking me for chocolate bars and a favor? Is that seriously all you want, Garrus?" She crossed her arms over her chest and squarely met the turian's gaze.

"You're forgetting the third condition, Commander." Garrus moved to her side, and picked up a clean cloth out of the first-aid kit. He began wiping the excess medi-gel and blood from her face in gentle strokes.

Surprised by his actions, Shepard blinked a couple of times before she found her voice again. "Right, the third condition," She watched his long talons graze her skin, such primitive tools for tearing and shredding, ghosting across her face as he wiped away the muck.

"The third condition?" he repeated softly. "Start smiling more." He opened a bottle of antiseptic and poured a bit onto the cloth before returning his attention to Shepard.

"I smile plenty, Garrus. You make it sound like I'm this big grump that sulks around the ship all day!" Annoyed, Shepard grabbed the now-dirty cloth and slapped his hand away.

He retrieved the item easily enough and grabbed her chin to hold her still. "I mean _really_ smile. Tonight, your eyes lit up every time you laughed, even if it was at the silliest things."

Shepard found herself genuinely touched as he began wiping her face down once again. She and Garrus had quickly befriended one another since joining her crew, but she never knew he was so damn _observant_. "I really am smiling; do you think I've just been faking it or something?"

"No, you've been smirking or grinning, chuckling instead of laughing. You've been faking it well, I'll give you that."

When she laughed and realization belatedly dawned upon Garrus, Shepard was sure that if turians were capable of blushing, the poor guy would have been purple. "_Spirits_, woman! You know what I mean!"

She hadn't been completely happy in years, but she never thought she had been a sad person. No, not by a long shot. Sure, she had every reason to be an emotional wreck, but she couldn't afford to break down. It just wasn't an option. Letting go and falling into a tear-soaked, alcohol-tinged stupor had certainly been a delicious opportunity that presented itself many times, but Shepard held fast, never once letting a drop of alcohol touch her lips in her eleven years of devoted service.

_'Eleven years…I wonder…' _Shepard pushed the thought from her mind before it had time to form completely. Feeling the first pinprick of long-forgotten tears, she stretched and waved Garrus' hand away before rubbing her eyes. "Well, Polly, I'm tired. But I promise I'll try to _smile_ more." She punched him playfully in the chest and checked the area to make sure she was leaving nothing behind.

Garrus had watched as her eyes darkened, drifting off into memories she kept locked away from the world. Shepard never spoke about her personal life, while others were sometimes a bit too open with theirs'. While others would brag about their families, Shepard would merely smile and compliment the holos she was shown. But every now and then, something would spark a memory, and, for the smallest moment, she was back in times only she could remember. He shook his head, smiling slightly as he handed her a cold press. "Sleep well, Shepard. Keep that on your nose tonight to help with the swelling."

"See you in the morning, Garrus. Get some sleep yourself; we have a busy few days ahead of us."

He watched her leave through the storage bay door, leaving behind the sound of her heartbeat and the scent of unshed tears in the air around him.

* * *

Much later, if someone so much as whispered the word 'Feros', they would be force-fed several rounds from whatever weapon Shepard grabbed first. For nearly a month, they had traveled back and forth to the planet with little to no rest between assignments. After clearing geth from tunnels and — much to Tali's horror — watching Davin Reynolds serve up varren steaks, Shepard called for twenty-four hours of shore-leave on the Citadel.

"Where should we eat, Shepard? Oh, I know this wonderful place that has food we can all eat!" Tali clapped her hangs together excitedly. "Garrus, you remember that café' near the C-Sec office, don't you? The one that served that _wonderful_ stew?"

_Shepard had been on her way to her cabin, intent on putting herself in a junk-food-induced coma. But Tali had caught her in the elevator and immediately began insisting that she join her on the Citadel. "I'd love to, Tali, but what I really want right now is my bed food that will potentially send me into cardiac arrest."_

_ The quarian grew quiet and wrung her hands together. "Oh, I see….That's okay, Shepard, I'm sorry to have bothered you."_

_ And there it was, Shepard was picturing it; the potent pout that she just _knew_ was happening behind Tali's mask. Sighing, she walked away from the elevator and grabbed Tali's hand. "Ah, I don't need the junk food anyway! Where should we go first?"_

_ "First, we have to go get Garrus! He's waiting for us by the transportation bay!" Tali all but dragged her though the airlock terminal and into the cargo bay, where the turian stood holding a transport token. Wasting no time, Tali snatched the token from Garrus with a hurried 'thank-you' before running off to pick out a car._

_ Shepard glanced over at her rather frustrated comrade and nudged him gently. "You envisioned the pout, too, didn't you?"_

_ "Oh, yes."_

_ "On your way to your stash of chocolate and hours of uninterrupted sleep?"_

_ "Of course."_

_ Shepard laughed and clapped Garrus on the shoulder, "You have to love our quarian, Garrus."_

So, here they were, traveling through the wards with an excited machinist in tow who had to stop and stare at every new tool like it was a rare gem. The bass of the music from Chora's Den distracted Tali from the tools long enough for her to turn towards her two companions. "Oh, there's a club! I wonder if the music is as good there as it is in Flux!"

Garrus stepped forward and dragged Tali back to the display of gadgets. "You don't want to go in there, Tali…Oh, look — a titanium wrench set!"

Tali giggled in delight, and Shepard chuckled at the sight of the two aliens drooling over the display. Across the way, a high-grade rifle caught her eye as it glinted under the lights of its display-case. She made her way towards the shop, and accidentally collided with a man who was just leaving Chora's Den.

"I'm sorry, sir —"

Shepard's breath hitched painfully in her throat when the man turned to face her. His smile chilled her blood, and caused her heart to thunder against her chest in a frantic dance of horror and anger. A ghost from her past was standing right in front of her, and she was paralyzed by the sudden torrent of emotions that were overloading her brain.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't little CJ! Or, should I say, the great Commander _Shepard_." Finch leaned forward, smelling of cheap alcohol and stale tobacco. "Adam isn't here now, girl. And you owe the Reds a debt."

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__SO sorry for the late update! Between family visiting and being bitten by my 11 1/4 inch tarantula, this chapter was a slow go! Thank you all SO much for the reviews and follows! Much love to my dear beta Wolf126~!_


	4. Serpentine

**The Crow and the Butterfly**

**Chapter Three: Serpentine**

* * *

_It had been her final night on Earth before she left for training, the night she received the information about the betrayal. Two drunken morons were stumbling around in the street, thoroughly agitating her as she made her way back to the hotel room she shared with two other new recruits. Shepard ignored their cat calls and lewd remarks, trying to reign in the temper she had already been reprimanded for several times._

_"Give it up, man. She must think she's too good for our kind of good loving." One of them finally grumbled in defeat._

_"Bet you if she knew that we were in the Reds, she'd want some of this." The other man snickered, and made a thrusting motion with his hips._

_Shepard stopped after she heard those words, and turned to look back at the two males behind her. She had never seen them before in her years being in the Reds, and they obviously had no clue who she was. But she was damned determined to find out who they were, and why they were stupid enough to be bragging about being in her gang._

_"The Reds, you say? You mean, the gang?" She purred sweetly, masking her intent with a heavy-lidded gaze from underneath dark lashes, and a dance of fingers over the closest man's chest._

_ "That's right, babe. We just happen to be two very important members, almost bosses ourselves." The man's head was unevenly shaven, she noted with a twinge of humor as he continued to brag and spout complete nonsense. She ignored the rest of his speech of having so much power, until his friend spoke up from behind him._

_ "Finch did good by Donovan, getting him all that info. Greasy bastard, I'm tellin' ya!"_

_ The name sparked a wildfire inside of her, anger burning through her veins as she listened to the men talk in conflicting views about Finch. Light from the neon signs glinted off a poorly concealed revolver tucked into the waistband of the one braggart's pants. Biting down on her rage, Shepard linked arms with both of them and offered a seductive curl of her lips. "Why don't you buy me a drink, and tell me more about life in the Reds?"_

_ In the darkness of a seedy motel room, fueled by cheap beer and numerous drugs, the two men unknowingly provided Shepard with every detail of why the only family she had ever known had to die. Donovan promised Finch his own men, vowed to make him his own boss with pawns he could put into play however he saw fit. She left the poor fools alive that night, maybe the cruel punishments of gang life would get them sooner or later. Or maybe she felt she owed them their lives for answering the question that had been gnawing at her for two weeks, she would never be really sure._

_ The information hadn't changed much, but at least Shepard knew something. She had collected a few bloody pieces of a dark, greed consumed puzzle. Finch had been Adam's best friend, almost like a brother, and the sick bastard had played an integral part in sending so many of them to their deaths._

* * *

It would have been so easy to put a bullet between Finch's eyes, and declare the act Spectre justice. But a quick, clean death was far too good for the man that _could_ have saved Adam's life. He should have been there that night, fighting tooth and nail for the Reds. Instead, he was off supplying Donovan with their access codes and weapon stash locations.

"_You son of a bitch_," Shepard hissed through her tightly-clenched teeth, "I don't owe you savage bastards _anything_."

"See, that's where you're wrong." A cocky smile wormed its way across Finch's lips. "When Donovan took up leadership of the Reds, he began to go through the numbers." He lowered his voice to a whisper, protecting their conversation from passing C-Sec officers and civilians. "Several kilos of red sand were missing, and so were the credits."

Shepard crossed her arms over her chest. "I refuse to see what eleven years' worth of missing drugs and credits have to do with me."

"The sand was logged as being given to you for distribution, but there is no record of you turning in the leftover sand or your profits." That said, Finch pulled out a battered, familiar data-pad that she had seen many times. It was her personal log; the very same one she had punched her numbers into every night after work, recording everything she brought in and took out. The sight of such a dark part of her past unnerved her. "Something seem wrong with that, CJ?"

As the blood pounded in her ears, she was suddenly and painfully familiar with the weight of the pistol in her hand. "You want to disrespect me, you little fucking punk?" She took a step forward, backing Finch into the rough wall behind him. "After everything I've done to be who I am, and as far as I've come? You would try to screw me over now?" She pressed her armored forearm into his throat, earning herself a choking gasp from Finch as he struggled to catch his breath. "I will punch you so fucking hard, it'll feel like you kissed a _freight train_."

Finch pushed her away, and straightened his clothes. "Cloak kept his records preserved well. In your case, maybe too well." He resumed looking over the data, and shook his head. "I wonder how the Alliance would feel if they knew their _precious_ Commander Shepard was a drug dealer? A drug dealer who, after murdering her fellow gang members, took off with several thousand credits' worth of highly illegal drugs. Oh, and what else do we have here?" Finch scrolled past several pages, and then turned the pad around so she could see.

She had faced unspeakable horrors on the battlefield, and endured training meant to break the strongest of men and women. But the image flickering on the screen of that data-pad transported her to that one night so many years ago, and turned her into a terrified eighteen-year-old once again. Adam's warm, grey eyes were staring back at her, with a wide smile firmly in place as he held Zoe up for a picture. Her daughter's small face mimicked her father's expression, and Shepard felt her heart sink. "Stop it, Finch."

"She shot the father of her child, and no one has seen the baby in years. What did you really do, CJ? Did you sell her off to slavers; maybe give her to one of the local whore-houses to raise into a proper slut?" Finch continued to flip through the images on the data-pad, bringing up pictures of the day Zoe was born. "Or maybe you killed _her_, too? Poor, poor Zoe Jane."

"Shut up, Finch. Just shut your god-damned mouth."

"Why? Don't want people knowing you murdered your own flesh and blood? Did it make you feel like a hard-ass by taking that little baby's life?"

She took a breath, her heart skipped a beat, and a single gunshot echoed throughout the ward as the round imbedded itself in Finch's abdomen. He gasped, then sputtered against the blood pooling in his mouth. Another shot, and then another, a third, a fourth. Finch's body hit the ground with a sickening thud, and the data-pad fell at Shepard's feet. Tears streamed down her face as she unloaded the entire weapon into the corpse, squeezing the trigger like a creature possessed. Her only goal was ending the venomous words spewing from his mouth, words that clouded her mind with a painful haze of sadness and regret. She barely registered Garrus pulling the weapon from her hands, or Tali pulling her into her arms. Three C-Sec officers rushed over, weapons drawn.

"What's going on here?!" A human officer cried, keeping his gun aimed at Shepard's chest.

"Spectre business. Get someone out here to clean this up," Shepard replied monotonously as she leaned down and picked the data-pad up off the ground.

The officers looked at each other in confusion, and then the human man pressed the subject further, not knowing just what thin ice he was treading on. "You just unloaded on a civilian —" Shepard turned her suddenly vicious gaze upon him, and was in his face before anyone could react.

"Can you not _hear_, son?! I am Commander Jane Shepard, _Spectre_. When I say, 'Spectre business', it is in your best interest to nod, and move the hell along! It is my primary responsibility to preserve galactic stability by _whatever_ means necessary, and this —" She pointed at Finch's corpse, "was one of those necessities. Do you wish to continue, or have I made my point?"

The thundering of Shepard's heartbeat filled Garrus' ears as he watched the C-Sec officers salute, and angrily move in to do what they had been instructed to do. He could almost taste the sparks of her fury on his tongue as the Commander turned and started walking towards the Normandy's docking bay. "Let's move. I've had enough of the Citadel for a while."

Tali glanced briefly at Garrus, offering what he could only guess was an expression of pure worry for her dear friend. The quarian quickly fell in behind the human woman, but as Garrus moved to follow them, he caught the tail-end of a conversation between two of the C-Sec officers.

"Well, she may be N7 and a Spectre, but she's still a bitch. A crazy —" The officer turned around, and came face to face with one of the galaxy's most perfect predators, eyes narrowed and talons flexing threateningly.

"Go on, I'm just _itching_ for a reason to put you in your place," Garrus growled, mandibles widening to reveal fangs that were more than capable of dealing fatal wounds to tender, human flesh. "You will _not _disrespect _my_ Commander behind her back like a cowardly _bitch_." He spat the last word, turning the man's hateful slander against him. "Do I make myself clear, officer?"

"Crystal, sir." A quick salute and the officer went back to work in silence, leaving a smirking turian to catch up to his companions.

He had seen Shepard angry, but he had never seen her upset to the point of tears. It left the turian feeling strangely helpless at not being able to comfort his friend and commanding officer, and he didn't like it. Garrus tried his best to rid his mind of her tear-stained face, and to fight away the odd emotions that were brought along with it. There was some damage control to see to before the crew returned. He was quite certain that no one wanted to be confined in a star-ship with an angry, red-headed Marine who had an entire arsenal of the Alliance's finest weapons at her disposal.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__Hello, all! I'm late, I know! Thank everyone SO MUCH for the reviews, Follows, and Favorites! They make me a very happy girl! Sorry to disappoint the 'true owner' out there, but this is indeed MY story. Take your drama else where, sweetie. _

_Shepard's threat towards Finch comes from the song, _**'War is the Answer' by Disturbed. **If you enjoy some angry music like I do, I highly recommend it!

_Many thanks to __**Wolf126 **__for taking the time to beta for me! If you guys are Shepard/Tali fans, go check out her amazing story, __**'To Build A Home'**__. It's just full of some Shepard/Tali fluffy goodness! Don't forget to review! Reviews are love~_


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